Seshat Adesina is slender and long-limbed, with the poised stillness of someone listening to a distant storm. Her olive skin has a matte, weathered texture across the backs of her hands and forearms from years spent tending furnace vents, while the skin of her face remains unexpectedly soft and almost luminous. Her long black hair flows to her hips in heavy, loose waves, but several strands perpetually lift as though underwater whenever her magic stirs. Her deep dark-brown eyes seem nearly black until firelight catches warm amber flecks around the pupils. She moves with an eerie, economical grace, never quite placing her heels down, and leaves the impression of a person who has already heard the next sentence. The contradictory detail most people remember is her smile: bright, shy, and genuinely delighted, even when the shadows around her hands are twisting like drowned fingers.